


Pins and Needles

by kenaran



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adults, Eventual Romance, F/F, Not Epilogue Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24543385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenaran/pseuds/kenaran
Summary: After the end of the war, Hermione is working a menial job at the Ministry, struggling to find her way in the world again.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Minerva McGonagall
Comments: 39
Kudos: 94





	1. Veracious Vellum

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Numb](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/629065) by tanithw. 



> The beginning was very much inspired by "Numb" by tanithw. So much so that, as a work in progress, it was called "My Numb" for the longest time. There’s even a (very short) quote in chapter 2. Since then it has evolved quite a bit (plus it has been quite some time since I have read the original story), so I am not sure how recognizable the connection is. Still, it’s what started it.
> 
> Aside from that, consider yourself warned. I have been reading a lot of MM/HG fan fiction in the last few years and if you have as well you will recognize a lot of the more common ingredients. If you’re looking for a completely fresh take, this is not your story. 
> 
> For the purpose of this story I consider House McGonagall to be one of the "truly pure-blood" houses. My personal head canon mostly sees her this way anyway (no idea why), so it came quite naturally when writing the story. I do not believe it contradicts the books (I may, of course, be mistaken – if so, please let me know), but it is definitely not in line with Pottermore. I also messed with the timeline a bit (though there appears to be some debate on that anyway), having McGonagall finish school shortly before the fall of Grindelwald. And with other parts of her back story. And I’ll stop listing stuff now. Just know that I mostly ignore Pottermore with a few rare exceptions.
> 
> I haven't finished writing the story yet, but I have a pretty clear idea of where I want it to go. Right now I'm at a little over 20k words and many of the chapters are already mostly complete, so I decided to take a chance and start posting it anyway. I don't plan on letting you down, but of course I can't make any promises. The rating is mostly a "better safe than sorry" choice, I'm not quite sure how bad (or good, for that matter) things are going to get.
> 
> Last but not least, I am not a native speaker and I also don't have a beta. If you spot any mistakes, I would appreciate letting me know. And of course, feedback is always welcome.

Hermione had discovered Veracious Vellum a little while after she had started working for the Ministry. Since then she had become a regular customer. The little shop in a tiny side street of Diagon Alley was far less busy than Flourish and Blotts, but it offered a very fine selection of a wide range of books with a strong focus on academic works. That alone would have made her love it ever since she had first learned to read, but beyond that it also happened to fill a very particular need the end of the war had left her with – she did not want to socialize while at the same time she hated being alone.

While she made regular purchases, mainly she enjoyed spending countless hours there, in one of the two armchairs in the cosy reading corner that most of the customers did not even notice, tucked away as it was behind the shelves. At first she had been afraid to overstay her welcome, but Mrs. Bloom, the shopkeeper, had repeatedly let her know that she was always happy to have her. She had even insisted Hermione stay beyond the official opening hours when there were still things to do that kept her busy in the shop anyway. 

Harry had moved in with the Weasleys for now and, despite the circumstances, was thoroughly enjoying the chance to finally spend some time with Ginny. Hermione knew she would have been welcome at the Burrow as well – she still was – but while she loved the whole family, that would have been too much for her to handle. Cowardly as it might be, she was not ready to deal with their grieving.

Ron’s pining was yet another thing she was not ready to deal with. She could not bring herself to regret the kiss they had shared during the battle. At that moment, it had felt right. It had been right. She did love him, and she knew that in some way she always would. But in the days afterwards it had become just as obvious to her that, as a couple, they would never work. Ron, of course, had been completely surprised by what she considered to be a blatantly straightforward conclusion. She had hated having to cause him that kind of pain and had done her best to explain, but in the end had come to realize that right now the best she could do – for both of them – was to keep her distance.

So, while she missed them both dearly, Hermione was on her own for now.

She had intended to go back to Hogwarts to make up for the year she had missed out on. Predictably, both Harry and Ron had been eager to start auror training as soon as possible and there was no way they would have gone back to school for another year, if they could avoid it. She would have been able keep some distance. The classes would have been just the right amount of distraction. Ginny would have been there to keep her company.

It had been the perfect plan. Except for the very minor hitch of the Ministry deciding to not reopen the school.

That decision had thrown her off completely. It was not how it was supposed to be. The war was over. Things were supposed to go back to normal. It made no sense whatsoever. And she resented it with every fibre of her being.

Going to a different school had been out of the question. Her perfect plan had hinged on the fact that Hogwarts would provide familiarity. A home. A breather. As it was, Hermione had found herself forced to resort to Plan B – or rather, Plan Z, as she had dubbed it in her frustration. She had taken the first opportunity for any kind of mindless job that had presented itself and gotten herself a tiny flat in London. Now her life consisted of working as a paper pusher at the Ministry and spending her free time reading. And evading anyone she knew. Which, aside from not wanting to be alone in what was supposed to be her home any more than strictly necessary, was the second reason for spending so many hours at Veracious Vellum – it made it a lot harder for her friends to track her down. Owls she could handle. People she handled by keeping them away.


	2. Chapter 2

“I see you have discovered my favourite place in all of London, Miss Granger.”

Hermione had been completely oblivious to the fact that someone had made their way around the bookshelves sheltering her little hideaway. Startled, she looked up to see Minerva McGonagall smiling down at her.

“Prof– um…,” she started to get up from her armchair while searching for a fitting way of addressing her former professor, then settled for, “Madam?” in a tone that made her lack of confidence regarding her choice more than obvious.

The older woman motioned for her to remain seated and let herself sink into the second armchair opposite Hermione while huffing and rolling her eyes dramatically. “That alone would be enough for me to eternally resent the Ministry. I have not had to worry about how people are to address me for decades. Now everyone is uncomfortable and I get called Miss, Mrs., ma’am, even Headmistress by one or two gits who somehow managed to evade news of the situation.” She took a deep breath and managed to calm down. “Just call me Minerva, please.”

Relieved at the much friendlier tone the last sentence had been spoken in, Hermione answered, “I will be sure to remember that. Minerva.” She put extra stress on the name, partly to demonstrate her willingness to use it, but mostly to convince herself that it was indeed okay to do so. It would take some getting used to, that much she was sure of. She added, “If you stop calling me Miss Granger, that is.”

“Agreed. Hermione.” McGonagall had copied her tone and Hermione was almost sure she had seen the hint of an amused smile tucking at the other woman’s lips. “Now, how about you tell me all about that book you have been devouring over a nice cup of tea?”

Hermione had been treated to some tea a couple of times over the last few weeks, but had never been forward enough to ask for it. The familiarity with which McGonagall ordered theirs and the way they got served with biscuits as well suggested that she was a particularly valued customer indeed.

Her choice of topic turned out to be just the kind of ice breaker that McGonagall must have been hoping for. The book in question was an introduction into the very basics of inventing your own spells and the older woman happily offered several recommendations for further reading on the matter. Just as Hermione began relaxing into the conversation McGonagall put down her now empty cup rather suddenly, then looked at her intently before asking, “So… filing?”

Hermione felt herself tense up immediately. She had been hoping to avoid the topic, but her former teacher obviously was well informed. “It pays the bills.”

McGonagall frowned, unable or perhaps simply unwilling to hide her dismay. “I thought you would be interested in pursuing a mastery. We both know you are extremely gifted. In more than one field.”

“I can’t.” Hermione was aware that her voice had shifted to a much less friendly tone rather abruptly. She was just as aware of how the change in topic had instantly triggered an almost physical feeling of pain in her chest. She did not want to go there. She forced herself to take several deep breaths to fight the rising panic, then took another sip from her tea. She had hoped that McGonagall would take the hint and move on with the conversation, but when she directed her attention back from the cup towards her former professor, she knew that was not going to happen. 

A part of Hermione wanted her to stop the conversation right there. To just mutter some excuse about a forgotten appointment and leave. It was the part that had come to dominate most of her conversations lately, focused solely on keeping them away from certain topics. Another part of her, however, insisted on pointing out to her that the woman opposite her was still waiting for her to continue. Not prodding. Just waiting. 

Hermione had always held her former head of house in high esteem. She had been her favourite professor by far. Right now, that left her stunned. She could not bring herself to simply walk away. And the damn woman was still just sitting there, refilling her cup, waiting. And not giving her any excuse for an exit whatsoever. 

She tried thinking of some kind of plausible explanation that would not involve baring her soul. Any lie would do so long as it would not be totally transparent. But nothing would come up.

Finally, Hermione relented. Not looking at McGonagall but instead picking on her napkin, she continued. “I can manage the ministry work because it’s mind-numbing. Not a challenge in any way. And because it doesn’t require a whole lot of interaction with my colleagues.” She realized it actually felt good to talk to someone and continued, “I’m moody. Grumpy. I don’t sleep well and have trouble concentrating. Quite frankly, I’m a mess. Any master would have to be insane to take me on as an apprentice.” 

“Care to test my level of insanity?” McGonagall’s reply had come instantly. It caused Hermione’s head to shoot up just as quickly, accompanied by an incredulous laugh that she hadn’t been able to suppress. McGonagall kept a straight face and continued, “There are no rules requiring a time limit for an apprenticeship. We can take as long as you need.”

It took Hermione another moment to realize her former professor was being serious. For one short, glorious moment she felt her heart soar at the prospect. Then reality came crashing in and she slowly shook her head. “I cannot afford to give up my job. I managed to find my parents again–” she paused, realizing that McGonagall had no way of knowing what she was talking about, then continued, “let’s just say they won’t be willing to support me and there is no way I am even going to ask. And since you’re not at a school anymore I can’t very well work as your assistant either.” That was the most common way for apprentices to earn their keep. It would have been a decent Plan B, had Plan A not failed quite so spectacularly.

Without missing a beat, McGonagall added, “Room and board included.”

Hermione stared at her, shocked at both the generosity and the bluntness of the offer, “I couldn’t.”

“You would love to, would you not?”

“That’s not the point.”

“I beg to differ. No…,” McGonagall put up a hand to keep Hermione from voicing her protest. “You are going to let me finish, Miss Granger.” While not exactly unpleasant her tone was firm enough to discourage any kind of discussion. With a hint of satisfaction she noticed that drawing on her professor persona had had the desired effect and continued, “One. I have no intention to start my teaching life over at another institution. I do, however, love to teach. Especially when having the good fortune of encountering an exceptionally talented student. If you believe you would be a burden, you could not be further from the truth.

“Two. Right now I am in serious danger of becoming a lonely, bitter old hag. Some amount of regular social interaction would benefit me a lot. I do believe much the same can be said about the current state of your social life?” She stopped for a moment to give Hermione a chance to reply. 

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call myself old…” Her voice trailed off as McGonagall’s raised eyebrows left no doubt that her attempt at deflection was not being appreciated.

Not deigning her with a spoken reply, McGonagall simply continued her argument, “Three. While my finances are none of your concern, you may rest assured that this arrangement would not result in any undue amount of stress on them.”

Her mind continued to supply more, but she knew better than to voice it, ‘Four. I hate seeing you like this. It is not your fault you got drawn into this nightmare. The world owes you all the help you need for getting yourself out of it again. And of course, most of the world could not care less. But I do.’ 

It would have been top of the list, but she knew Hermione would not appreciate being pitied. So instead McGonagall went on, “If you insisted on it, you could probably arrange for a half-day job at the Ministry. However, I would much prefer to avoid any unnecessary restrictions to our schedule and simply focus our efforts on your apprenticeship.” Our schedule. Our efforts. She had chosen her words carefully and hoped they were going to have the effect she was aiming for.

Not willing to risk interrupting her former professor again, Hermione waited for a few seconds to make sure she truly was finished before speaking up again, “I don’t even know where you live.”

McGonagall took the statement as an indication that she had succeeded in at least making her consider the offer. Finally allowing herself to smile, she said, “That may easily be rectified.”

Her curiosity alone would have been enough for Hermione to take the hand the other woman had extended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have given up on chapter titles already. That was quick. I might add one later on, but right now it was the only thing keeping me from posting. So there you have it, chapter 2. You'd better not expect me to keep up that pace though because there is no way that's going to happen.


	3. Chapter 3

They materialized on a hill, next to a Pictish stone. A trail led down the hill onto a plain. The vegetation was shrubby for the most part, with dark green, brown and yellow tones as the dominating colours. Even from up on the hill it was easy to see that most of the terrain appeared to be covered by marsh. Further down the plain, Hermione spotted a creek flowing into a small river. These two bodies of water framed a green meadow that was dotted by several trees and a big house. In the distance the soft, greyish-blue contours of mountains could be seen towering over the plain.

“McGonagall Manor,” McGonagall proclaimed proudly. “I trust you do not mind the walk? It will give you a better feel of the place. Also, if you ever wanted to apparate here on your own, this will be the closest the wards will let you get. The stone makes it a rather good apparition spot.”

“Give me a moment?” Hermione asked and started to make sure she would be able to remember the place well enough.

“Of course. Let me know when you are done.” McGonagall walked down the trail for a bit, then waited while taking in the view. There were a few clouds in the sky. One of them had been covering the sun, but as it moved on the scenery was bathed in warm light again.

“All done.” Hermione had come up next to her. “It’s beautiful,” she added, her voice filled with awe.

McGonagall glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “Most people choose words like barren or uninviting.”

Hermione decided not to comment on most people’s taste, and merely answered, “I like it.” Letting her eyes roam the vast expanse of mostly empty land before her once more, she asked, “Is this where you grew up?”

“Yes.” McGonagall’s expression as well as her voice clearly reflected the love and pride she felt. “I never grow tired of it.”

They both transfigured their footwear into light hiking shoes. The path down the hill was somewhat steep, but once they had reached the valley floor, it was a leisurely stroll, at times over boardwalks to cover particularly wet spots. The older witch used the chance to tell Hermione some of the estate’s history, but most of the way they just walked next to each other in silence, enjoying both the company and the setting.

“There we are.” McGonagall opened the heavy front door with a wave of her wand, then went on, “How about a tour of the house and a nice afternoon tea with some ginger newts afterwards?”

* * *

The tour had left Hermione in awe. McGonagall’s home was furnished in tasteful elegance. Some of it reflected the house’s history, but mostly it radiated a feeling of cosiness and security. There were several comfortable bedrooms on the upper floor and the ensemble of kitchen and dining room downstairs was in no way less welcoming. But what truly made her fall in love with the house was the library they were currently standing in as the lady of the house had saved it for last. It had everything one could possibly want from a place like that. A couch and armchairs, a table to play chess or cards on, a fireplace, and, of course, a vast amount of books. Knowing McGonagall, the quality of these books would probably even surpass their quantity. At a loss of words, Hermione found herself staring open-mouthed.

“I am glad you approve,” McGonagall stated in a slightly teasing tone before leaving for the kitchen where she had Hermione sit at the counter while she started preparing their afternoon tea. “Did I ever tell you how I ended up becoming a professor?” McGonagall asked, knowing full well that she had not. Nevertheless she waited for Hermione to shake her head, before continuing. “Right after graduating Hogwarts, I had become involved in the final stages of the war against Grindelwald. Afterwards, Albus asked me to be his assistant at Hogwarts. We both knew he did not need one. So did Headmaster Dippet, yet he never questioned my employment. The position gave me a chance to clear my head, figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I became his apprentice a little later, a teacher soon afterwards.”

“I miss Hogwarts,” Hermione said.

That had not been the point of the story. But McGonagall knew that Hermione was aware of that, so she decided to oblige her guest, “So do I.”

“I was going to return for my seventh year.”

“A wise plan. I am sorry that chance was taken from you. Just as I am sorry to have been denied the chance to teach you once more.”

Hermione found herself growing irritated. Surely her former professor did not think she was this easy to manipulate. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Minerva,” she snapped.

McGonagall forced herself to take a deep breath before answering. Moody indeed. She chose not to comment on Hermione’s tone, but was unwilling to let the accusation itself stand. “I will have you know that I am not prone to using unfounded flattery as a means to an end.” She had been trying to keep her annoyance out of her voice, but knew she had not quite succeeded, so she quickly amended, “It is not flattery, if it happens to be true. I apologize for being such a nag. But I really need you to understand that I meant every word I said. In the Vellum and right now. I would be overjoyed to take you on as my apprentice.” 

Taking in Hermione’s rather obvious embarrassment at her outburst, McGonagall decided to give her some space and turned her attention back towards her kitchen activities. The tea was done steeping so she started to put everything onto a tray. It was a warm late summer afternoon and they were going to take their tea on the patio. With a flick of her wand she started levitating the tray towards the hallway and motioned for Hermione to follow her. In an attempt to ease the tension, she said, “I trust you have had a chance to read the dreadful lead article on transfiguration and thermodynamics in the current edition of Transfiguration Today?”

Of course Hermione had. Both were glad for the change of topic and they were already engaged in a lively discussion before they had even left the house.

* * *

“That was fun.” Having finished both the ginger newts and their discussion, Hermione leant back in her chair, closed her eyes and let herself bask in the gentle afternoon sun.

“I agree,” McGonagall said. While the article itself had indeed been dreadful, the discussion it had inspired had been most fruitful. And challenging. She had been pleased to learn that Hermione’s sharp intellect had not been dulled by her mindless work at the Ministry over the past weeks.

Hermione cracked open one eye to glance at the other woman and said, “That would be where you point out that we would be obliged to enjoy this kind of fun regularly as part of an apprenticeship.”

McGonagall was unable to fully contain a grin before answering, “It would appear there is no need for me to point it out.”

Returning the grin, Hermione closed her eyes again. Glad to finally see the younger woman relax around her McGonagall continued to observe her. Just now, with the warm sunlight illuminating her, Hermione looked downright serene. Only a few moments later the smile started to slowly fade away though, to be replaced by an expression that easily betrayed the pain she had so valiantly been trying to hide. Remaining quiet was not an easy feat at all. But McGonagall was certain that trying to push Hermione into anything would only serve to drive her away. So she forced herself to wait. 

Finally, her patience paid off. Hermione turned towards her before speaking. “The war is over. We won. I fared pretty well, all things considered. No big personal losses. It shouldn’t be that hard to just move on.”

McGonagall shook her head. “You lost plenty, Hermione. You lost time that should have been yours to make important choices concerning your future. The chance to do so without constantly being worried sick about everyone close to you. The feeling that you could rely on your parents’ unconditional support. You lost a great bit of faith in everything that is good in the world far sooner than you should have.” She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, then went on, “In many ways events like these hit people of your age the hardest – they have not had a chance to find their place in life yet. And at the same time they often expect themselves to be independent and self-reliant. It is a less than optimal combination.”

Hermione remained unconvinced. “Perhaps. Still, I didn’t even lose someone really close to me. Unlike Harry. Or Ron. Or you!”

Again, McGonagall shook her head. “It is not a numbers game. Someone else’s loss does not make your pain any less real. We are all hurting. And, believe me, you lost people as well. I know that Nymphadora was determined to look out for you after the war. So was Molly, who is understandably a little overwhelmed right now, but who will come around eventually. People do care, it is important you know that.”

Staring into her tea that had long gone cold, Hermione quietly observed the swirls her spoon created. When she spoke up again, her voice was barely a whisper, “I feel so lost.”

“So do I.” The quiet admission made Hermione look up to meet Minerva’s eyes. “I would like to tell you that it gets better with time. And it does. But then evil comes back and it just keeps happening over and over again. And it’s …” Her voice broke and she had to swallow a lump in her throat before being able to continue, “... it’s really wearing me down. To the point where I do not know that I can bring myself to care the next time around. And that scares me. Because that really is not who I want to be.”

For a few moments Hermione found herself speechless. She was amazed at how much effort the older woman must have put into maintaining her facade. And at the fact that she was willing to drop it for her. “I had no idea,” was all she finally came up with. 

Minerva shrugged and said, “I doubt wearing my heart on my sleeve would have served me well.” Smirking, she added, “In the wars or as a teacher.”

Hermione had to chuckle at the image of her professor being all mushy while trying to handle a class of Gryffindors and Slytherins. Then she turned serious again, “It’s certainly serving you well as a friend.”

“Does that mean you will accept?” Minerva found she had to force herself to keep breathing while waiting for the other woman’s answer.

Hermione kept staring at her for a few more moments, then she slowly, almost imperceptibly nodded her head. The gesture made the older woman smile widely, the relief she felt more than evident. Returning the smile, Hermione asked, “You’re quite certain you’d prefer I didn’t get a part time job? I’m sure they’d agree.”

“As I said, I would rather avoid the added complications and limitations.” As Hermione still looked doubtful, she added, “It really is not a problem.”

“It’s not just about the money. It would give you some alone time. I don’t want to be a bother ...”

Minerva rolled her eyes as she answered, “Honestly, Hermione. The manor is not exactly a cottage. If I want alone time, I will let you know and be sure to shut one of the doors behind me. You do the same and we are going to be just fine.” 

“Let me sleep on it?”

“Of course.”

Smiling her thanks, Hermione continued, “When would you like to start anyway?”

“Whenever suits you best. It would also depend on the time needed to make the necessary arrangements at your workplace, obviously.”

Shaking her head, Hermione said, “I honestly don’t expect any kind of trouble there. My job isn’t exactly what you’d call indispensable.”

Minerva rose and started to gather their cups and dishes. Afraid Hermione might develop second thoughts, she decided to try and keep the forward momentum. “Well then, if you would like a chance to explore the library on your own, I can fix up one of the bedrooms for you in the meantime.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, “As in, right now?”

“As in, whenever suits you best.” Minerva winked. 

“I can’t very well just barge in on you like that ...” Hermione had quickly drawn her own wand and was now following Minerva towards the house while levitating their afternoon tea leftovers.

“Last time I checked following an express invitation was not considered barging in.” They had reached the kitchen and Hermione put down her cargo. “Thank you,” Minerva said, then added, “You remember the way?”

Hermione grinned widely, “To the library? Always.”

“Then why are you still standing here?”

“I’m not.” Hermione said while darting out of the kitchen, only to poke her head back in seconds later to add a quick “Thank you!” before leaving for real.

* * *

Hermione’s first exploratory expedition into the library had been just as exciting as she had known it would be. It took her no time at all to find the first book she would be devouring. In fact, she had already spotted it when Minerva had first shown her the room – the centrepiece of the most prominent bookcase, the one anyone would be looking at when entering the room, was a first edition of _Hogwarts, A History_. Some of the more glaring omissions had made her wonder if the text had perhaps not only been updated but also abridged at times and Hermione had been dying to get a chance for a comparison. The fact that the library at Hogwarts itself had only been stocked with relatively new copies had not served to alleviate her suspicions.

Barely containing her curiosity, she still forced herself to inspect the rest of the bookshelves as well. Halfway through the room she had already decided that keeping a part-time job would be one of the more spectacularly bad ideas in the history of bad ideas. If Minerva was hellbent on providing her with the free time needed to study all of these, who was she to argue anyway?

Shaking her head slightly in disbelief at just how lucky she was she finished her first rough mental chart of the room – there were no less than three bookcases containing all kinds of texts related to transfiguration magic alone – then carefully picked up the History and quickly got lost in it. Already spotting the first minor differences, she soon lost track of time completely and only noticed her stomach’s rumblings when Minerva came in to tell her that Deely, her house-elf, had fixed them something for dinner.

Later that evening, Hermione found herself lying in what was going to be her bed now. Heavy clouds had formed all evening long and now repeated gusts of rain and wind quickly lulled her into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to get a better impression of the landscape I have tried to describe, search for “flow country caithness”. I have been there on vacation and Hermione’s reaction very much mirrors my own.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be an end note for the previous chapter. I will add it there, but also leave it here for a while, so that returning readers will see it: 
> 
> If you want to get a better impression of the landscape I have tried to describe, search for “flow country caithness”. I have been there on vacation and Hermione’s reaction very much mirrors my own.

After an unusually long and peaceful night, Hermione came downstairs the next morning to find Minerva in the kitchen drinking coffee and puzzling over a wizarding chess riddle on the Daily Prophet’s last page. Knocking gently on the door frame, she said, “Good morning.”

Slightly startled, Minerva looked up. “Oh, thank Merlin. Now I have an excuse to put this away without feeling like I have given up on it. Good morning, dear. And please, do not feel like you have to knock.” She waved her inside. “Shall we have breakfast together?”

They proceeded to order their breakfast with Deely, who then vanished again. Taking note of Hermione’s confused look, Minerva explained, “There’s an elf kitchen downstairs. I’m afraid this one has been mostly for show ever since my mother died. Well this, and making coffee and tea, which I find oddly satisfying to do myself.”

After asking for Hermione’s preference, she proceeded to do just that and was finished almost exactly at the same time Deely reappeared and placed their food onto the old oaken kitchen table.

Halfway into her poached eggs on toasted bread, Minerva suddenly stopped eating to look at Hermione intently. “She is free to leave any time she wants to.”

“Deely?” Hermione felt relief flooding her. She had been pondering how to address the topic without appearing rude.

Minerva nodded and went on, “I used to take this for granted because, obviously, I would never keep anyone against their will. However, a few years ago, someone,” she pointedly looked at Hermione, “made me reconsider the power dynamics in a master servant relationship.”

Hermione gaped. “You heard of S.P.E.W.?”

“Of course. I would be neither a worthy head of house nor a decent deputy headmistress, had I not. Now there is a parcel with a pair of socks and a gift card made out to Deely and signed by me in the basement and she knows it. In fact, I am allowed to remind her of it once a year.”

“So she doesn’t have to ask for it.” Hermione beamed. “That’s brilliant.”

Minerva just shrugged. “I was not able to convince her to accept payment, but there is a decent sum in that parcel that she is free to take should she decide to leave.”

Hermione felt her eyes tearing up. Annoyed and embarrassed at how easy it was to put her off balance these days, she quickly reached for her cup of coffee to buy herself some time. Then she said, “Thank you.”

Minerva frowned. “Whatever for? Trying to be a decent human being?”

After thinking for a moment, Hermione answered, “Yes, actually. That and not ridiculing me.”

“It can be hard to make people see past their preconceptions. That does not make you wrong.”

By the time they had finished breakfast, the rain had lessened a bit, but there still was a constant drizzle. Standing at one of the kitchen windows, Hermione found herself looking out into a world that consisted of every imaginable hue of grey but no other colors at all.

“Still think it beautiful?” Minerva had quietly come up next to her to hand her a second cup of coffee.

“Perfect for curling up with a book and reading the day away.” Hermione grinned. “So yes, I like it.” Glancing sideways at the other woman who was holding another cup for herself, she hesitated briefly, then added, “I missed you, you know?”

“I did not.”

“Well, it’s true.”

Minerva did not say anything, directing all of her attention on her coffee instead. Just when Hermione had accepted the fact that she would not be getting an answer, she spoke up again after all. “Likewise.”

* * *

They had agreed Hermione would get her things right away. There were not actually a lot of them and with her enchanted bag it would not take her long to get it done. “Would you like me to come with you to help?” Minerva asked.

“No!” Hermione vehemently shook her head. At Minerva’s surprised look, she added, “I didn’t exactly put a lot of love into decorating and, um, maintaining my place.”

“Meaning you do not want me to witness the mess?” Minerva did not bother to hide her amusement.

“That’s a rather blunt way of putting it.” Hermione had blushed furiously. “But yes.”

“Alright. If it makes you feel better.” Minerva started towards the library. “Come on, I will get a fire going and shift the wards so you can just floo out of here and back again later. No point in taking a stroll through this kind of weather.”

As she started the fire, she felt somewhat guilty for having embarrassed Hermione with her teasing. In an attempt to put her at ease she said, “It would not have made me think any less of you. Stop worrying.” She refrained from adding that, given Hermione’s current situation, she would not have expected anything else. True as it was, it would only have served to embarrass the young woman even further.

* * *

After Hermione had returned and they had had a light lunch, Minerva introduced Hermione to the book list for her apprenticeship curriculum that she had drawn up in the meantime. At first, the ever eager young woman had been a little disappointed because the number of books on the list had been considerably less than she had expected. When she had mentioned that, Minerva’s reply had been, “That is because there is no such thing as ‘optional further reading’ for you. You will end up reading them all, and sooner rather than later. Consider this the first batch. Just so that I have the slightest chance of keeping track.” They also agreed that Hermione would come up with a first draft of a schedule to her apprenticeship herself, focussing on the order of topics rather than specific dates.

After lunch, Hermione quickly unpacked and then joined Minerva, who had moved to the library to start composing an article for Transfiguration Today. Hermione happily pulled all of the books on her list out of their respective shelves and felt herself falling in love with the library all over again. She quickly familiarized herself with them and then proceeded to draw up her proposed schedule right away, enjoying herself immensely. Yes, she had missed this. And no, she would not be missing her work. More than her studies though, she enjoyed being able to do all of this in a place like this with a person like Minerva at her side. She glanced up at her and then at the clock. They had not even spoken for at least two hours, both concentrating on their respective tasks, but the mere fact of being there together made her feel incredibly comfortable. 

After dinner she had presented her schedule to Minerva. Together, they decided to mostly keep to the order Hermione had proposed, with Minerva only needing to switch a few topics. She had not been surprised to learn that Hermione wanted to become an animagus, but had been glad she had been able to convince her eager student that it paid off to concentrate on the theoretical foundations first. That had saved her from explaining that, while her pedagogical reasoning certainly was sound, she also wanted to ensure Hermione was a bit more emotionally stable before attempting such dangerous spells.

After they were both content with their plan, Minerva said, “There’s one more thing. Not to be a spoilsport, but you are required to have completed your N.E.W.T. in a field before acquiring a mastery.”

Hermione did not appear to be fazed, simply answering, “I know.”

Minerva continued, “I do apologize for not reaching out to you before this year’s exams.” All eligible students had been offered the chance to sit their exams at the Ministry a few weeks after their initially scheduled dates. Minerva had personally made sure the Trio had been included even though they had missed the last school year. “With all of the chaos after the war’s end I only realized on the day of the exams that you were not there.”

The unspoken question in those words was hard to miss and Hermione answered, “I wasn’t ready to meet everyone again. And I very much did not want to end up on the Daily Prophet as ‘The Brains’ again, simply for taking seven N.E.W.T.s. They had only just begun to calm down.”

Minerva sighed. “You should have sent me an owl. We would have figured something out. Again, I am sorry for not contacting you.”

Hermione grinned. “I did send an owl.” She allowed herself a few seconds to enjoy Minerva’s confusion before adding, “To Madame Maxime.”

Minerva stared at her with a mixture of fascination and incredulity. “You took your N.E.W.T.s at Beauxbatons?”

Hermione shrugged. “My French is not all that bad and they were kind enough to let me write my answers in English.”

Minerva shook her head. “You are indeed full of surprises.”

Having finished all of the planning concerning her mastery for the time being, Hermione wanted to dive back into her books right away, but Minerva intervened, dryly remarking that there was no need to cover the content of a month within just one evening and they agreed on finishing the day with a game of chess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize profusely for making you wait this long for an update. I hadn’t even realized just how long it had been. There are quite a few reasons for this, one of which being that, while I already had finished several of the later chapters, this one was still a _very_ rough draft. It’s basically a filler chapter and as such gave me quite a bit of trouble writing it. I am not completely satisfied with it as it is, but have decided to post it anyway to finally get things going again.


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